


Just In Case

by doctorfourteen



Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kidnapping, Realising Feelings, Romance-ish, Survival, Tucy, Violence, chenford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24311413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorfourteen/pseuds/doctorfourteen
Summary: Lucy and Tim had created a codeword, a failsafe for if something was to ever go catastrophically wrong and they weren't safe. It was never really intended to be used, it was supposed to just be a safety net for Lucy in her recovery, post day-of-death. That was until months later in the lull of normal life and for the first time he hears her use it. Lucy has gone missing and the team rush to save her, fearing that Rosalind Dyer is on the move again to finish what she started.
Relationships: Tim Bradford & Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Comments: 12
Kudos: 154





	1. In The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Happy The Rookie renewal day! Very excited for season 3. What's that I hear the crowd cry? "But Lame, don't you have another fic to finish?" Started on a very vague prompt and fleshed out from there, written from middle to beginning to end to middle. Not beta read because 1) we die like heathens and 2) I don't have nearly enough friends to manage to follow all my hyper fixations

Lucy’s eyes cleared slowly, her head throbbed wildly as she moved her head to look forwards, with her quickly realising pretty soon after that pretty much everything else about her hurt. She tried to move her body to a more comfortable position against the hard surface, before realising that she was pressed against a radiator and her hands were tied. As she tried to move around to get a better look, pulling at her wrists to test the bindings she hissed as a searing pain ran through her body, feeling as though every single nerve had been struck by thunder and lightning. She recoiled slightly, pulling at her wrists but despite the heavy metal clanging, it just hurt and it was serving no benefit.

Her gaze shifted to the man parallel to her in the dimly lit room. It seemed to be some sort of basement or room without any windows. There was a cold air whistling through wherever this was the place was definitely draughty. It set her teeth on edge and if her predicament hadn’t already given her goosebumps, that would.

The man was pacing, she realised. He had messy hair, a tattoo that she couldn’t quite see running the full length of his arm and at the end of his arm… he was holding a gun. He looked unsettled and on edge, like he was on some sort of really bad trip.

“My name is Lucy Chen, I’m a police officer with the LAPD.” She explained calmly, clearly trying to muster her most grown-up voice. She wanted to sound authoritative, angry or maybe threatening. Just anything other than the unadulterated fear she felt right now.

“You’re a cop?” She quickly moved her head to her left; she hadn’t noticed the man in the beanie before now. Even when she tried to narrow her eyes to take in every detail of the room just as she’d been taught, it felt like the world was an ominous blur of things that were just too slightly out of focus for her to see.

“We have to kill her Carl.” The pacing man panicked.

It was a sobering thought and all at once everything came into view in an overwhelming way. She saw the damp at the edges of the walls, the peeling combination of paint and wallpaper. The room smelled damp and had a tinge of burning tar to it. It looked like it was some kind of office, maybe, if that’s what anything in this place could be described as. It had a desk and chair, if that counted as an office. There was a corkboard, with things pinned to it, but the room was too dark for her to make any of it out. He moved towards her, aiming his gun at her, his hand shuddering.

“Think about what you’re doing.” Lucy pleaded with him, pulling at her bindings just enough to shift to sitting on her knees. Carl raised her hand, the gun still in his grasp as he swiped at her, a blunt ache at her cheek and mouth. Her jaw hurt.

“We can’t just kill a cop, Joe, are you insane—?” His voice raised. Lucy shuddered, feeling a bitter metallic taste in her mouth she realised her lip was bleeding. The thought was there to _kill her_. Her mind threw back to Caleb and being forced into the barrel. The bleakness of suffocating, buried alive and feeling every ounce of life wrung from her. She worried if being shot to death would somehow feel different? She’d watched people die before, especially in her job. Was her death going to be like turning off a light, or would it be slow and drawn out like before?

“Would you just _shut up_. I’m trying to think.” Carl argued.

Joe sat down adjacent from Lucy on a shipping box, putting his head in his hands despairingly. “Shit, shit, shit. You kidnapped _a cop_. There’s no coming back from that, man. With my rap sheet and—.”

“You’re right. He’s right.” She looked to Carl. “You can’t kill a cop. Right now you’re looking at assault, kidnapping. But if you give me up now, maybe turn on your boss you could be looking at 20 years, good behaviour. You can still have a life. You don’t have to kill me.” She strained against her bindings against the piping, trying to gain some leverage or maybe loosen the pipe but she couldn’t free herself. Her hands were cuffed blisteringly tight above her head and she could bet they were probably even her own standard issue cuffs from work.

“I won’t see my kid grow—”

There was a bleeping, then a ringing. It was the Kim Possible theme. Lucy grimaced in horror, eye widening and fear curdling at the pit of her belly. Carl turned to her.

It was Bradford, she was certain. That was his personal ringtone, part of some dumb joke that seemed hilarious at the time but now made her blood run cold.

“You didn’t check if she was clear?” Goddammit Joe.” He exclaimed, handling her roughly in the seat, searching her pockets for the ringing sound. His hands were rough and she felt her flesh bruising under his touch as he pulled at her, she shifted uncomfortably against the cuffs. Joe was silent. Sure he’d patted her down, taken her gun from her belt, the knife at her ankle and the lot. It hadn’t crossed his mind to consider if she had a mobile phone tucked away, especially not in the heat of the moment.

“I-It’ll be my TO. If I don’t answer my mobile, he’ll know something’s wrong and he will come looking for me and he’s an arrogantly stubborn man who won’t stop.” She explained, trying to bargain with the man, her voice wavering slightly with a bead of something, maybe blood or sweat at her brow. She felt a rush of combined adrenaline and fear.

“You _idiot_.” He declared tossing her mobile to Joe catching it from where he was sat, walking towards her. A questioning look in his eye; they were really going to let a cop take a call from her superior?” Lucy saw the look.

“Hey Boot, how’s it going?” Joe held the phone up to her on speakerphone, the threat of a gun held up to her at less than arm’s distance.

Mustering everything she had in her; everything he had every taught her about deception, all of those off the cuff survival tactics, the bargaining she’d tried with Caleb, experiences of being a cop on the beat of the LA asphalt.

“Officer Bradford. Hey, I’m good. It’s my day off— is there something wrong at work?” Her lips pursed, feeling the man press the barrel of the gun tighter against her forehead, she tried to supress a shuddered breath.

Tim sat up sharply at his desk. He was only calling in passing, he’d had one hell of day and he could fancy grabbing a beer on the way home from work. He furrowed his brow slightly, narrowing his eyes to focus on her words. Months ago after her kidnapping, they had arranged a secret code for whenever the called, something that was only ever expected to be the cradle of a safety net for Lucy in the aftermath of her trauma but had now become second nature. She’d responded in the affirmative to his question. It felt like his heart has skipped a beat, feeling that flurry of fear for her, followed swiftly by anger. He started recording the call.

“Mm, yeah. Sort of… Something panned out with the D’Agastino case, the Captain is calling us all in for a safety briefing.” He lied while trying to find some kind of response on the fly to keep her talking or to somehow engage whomever else was listening in to their conversation. Her heard that controlled flatness in her tone that only he could recognise after hours together, driving the streets of LA in the shop, he knew her like he knew the back of his own hand.

“My dad’s sick again. Can you let the dog out for me?” 

“Sure. Where—.” He heard a bleep, then nothing. She’d hung up. He took a moment, looking at his mobile just in case she called back, his mind rushing through everything she’d said already and everything he’d heard.

* * *

“Lopez.” Tim called to a desk not too far from his own, she seemed pretty engrossed in whatever she was doing, her face was screwed tightly as she flicked through a file with a stack of papers in it; photos mostly but the odd transcript and handwritten note.

“Yeah?” She replied, glancing up at him, grateful from the break from her work. Her back was aching, she realised placing her hand at the nape of her neck and massaging tense muscles. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Chen, I think she’s in some kind of trouble. Can you take a look at this call?”

“Sure.” She answered, holding her hand out to him for his mobile, seeing the concern plastered across his face, she arched an eyebrow. “You okay?”

He tossed the mobile to her, making his way over to her desk. “I was just calling to check in. It’s sort of, uh, a thing we do. That doesn’t matter. She’s telling me something’s wrong; we have this code where I ask how she is and if she tells me to stand down then she’s fine. If she says anything else, she’s compromised somehow.” She put her headphones in, playing the part of the conversation Tim recorded.

“She said her dad’s sick, maybe she’s just got some stuff on her mind and forgot?” Lopez offered, trying to reassure her friend and colleague.

“I tried calling back, but her phone’s off. I don’t know, something about this just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“When have you ever not trusted your instinct?” She asked.

“You’re right.” He conceded.

“Call it in. I’ll see if I can get some friends of mine to enhance the audio. See if there’s anything more we can get from it.”

* * *

Joe tossed her mobile across the room, with it shattering against the wall. Damn it. The cops were definitely onto them now and it was all just going to be a matter of time. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Shut up.” Carl warned Lucy, with a swift punch to the ribs before she had the opportunity to say anything. She inhaled deeply with a cough, curling into a defensive position as best as she could, straining her tied hands to block another hit.

“They’re onto us. They know we have one of theirs. They’re going to put us away for life. I won’t see my kid.”

“Think of all our brothers and sisters on the frontline they’ve taken from us, huh? So what if we take one of theirs? They deserve it for what they’ve done to our crew.” Carl retorted.

“This isn’t your crew, these aren’t your people you’re running with Carl. This is your dad’s people yeah? I never asked to be a part of this. You dragged me into this.” Joe put his head in his hands as Lucy still spluttered in the background, every breath only bringing pain. He was pacing again, waving the gun around as he gesticulated. “I was fresh out of prison, a new life. Good behaviour and all that.”

“Yeah and you had no friends, no status and no money. Some gangbangers would’ve killed you walking to get your groceries and that’s if you didn’t OD on your couch before that.”

“I had a life and a kid! That was enough.” Joe retorted, tears streaming freely down his face. Lucy saw him grind his jaw, his pacing becoming more erratic. He pointed the gun at her; she flinched placing her hands in front of her as well as she could.

The sound of the gunshot barely registered in her mind, before Carl dropped to the ground right in front of her. Lucy pulled again, trying to move towards him to see if he was still alive; maybe there was something she could do to help. She didn’t have any of her kit but— It was no use. He was dead.

“Just let me go and we can talk about this. Please, just let me go.”

“And arrest me? Nah, I’m not going back to jail.” Lucy hesitated. She was trapped at a sticky crossroad; she couldn’t promise he wouldn’t be arrested. She was also staring death in the face and it wasn’t getting any easier the second time around.

“Talk to me.” She pleaded, panic and desperation now seeping into her voice. “Joe, talk to me. I know you’ve been to prison once already, that you’ve got a kid. You’ve got so much life still to live and I don’t know what you’re going through, but I can tell you’ve been through a lot that I could never understand, but I’ve been to a really dark place too and it’s hard when you’re alone.” She watched as his interest waned, trying to reel him back in. “Joe… Joe, listen to me. You’ve got a kid, right? That’s the biggest thing. You’ve got a whole life you created.” She was hanging on to anything she could.

“Don’t psychoanalyse me, lady.” He retorted and she nodded.

She was suffocating in her own words and her fight for survival. All her senses assaulting her at once, it was like Caleb was in the room, like he was holding the gun to her himself. Tears brimmed at her eyes. She could promise he wouldn’t be arrested, maybe if she could just get him to free her or to run away. But damn it, it wasn’t the way she’d been taught or trained; she hadn’t expected to love being a cop so damn much but just as much she had grown to respect the role and the responsibilities that came with it. It was like it just wasn’t in her DNA to lie to people, no matter the circumstances or consequences.

“I don’t want to die.” She blurted out as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m really scared too, but maybe there’s a way out of this. He lowered the gun for a moment, thinking, trying to figure a way out.

“Shut up.” He warned, making his way over to her, releasing one had from the cuffs against the radiator, tightening the other with a vice-like grip. She wriggled in his grasp, trying to fight against him but his single hand wrapped around her wrists easily, wrenching her arms behind her back. “We’ve got to move.”

“Please— Please, just—” She begged. He cut her off, wrapping a dirty cloth tightly around her head, between her teeth, forcing her to her knees as he tied it. 

“I told you to shut up.” He yanked her back to her feet, pressing the gun to her back. “Walk.”

* * *

“I want every officer in this precinct on this thing, call in the off-duty teams for a briefing.” Grey barked. “What do we have already?” He asked, looming over Lopez’ desk, Tim at his side.

“A little bit of audio. Not much. We do know the last call she made was around the Arts District Downtown at 19:04 last night. We found her car abandoned there.” Angela explained, holding her earphones out to Grey to listen to the incomplete conversation.

“Who was the call to?”

“Still waiting for the judge to grant the warrant on her call history. I checked in with Wes and Judge Walters is the duty Judge for today, but he’s tied up with an emergency child protection placement.”

“Damn it.” Grey hissed angrily. “Who’s second on call? We need to hurry this thing along.”

“She could already be dead by now.” Tim chimed in bleakly, they both turned to look at him. “She said to let the dog out, but she doesn’t have a dog.”

“What about Kujo?”

“But why let him out? The dog runs around more in a day than me. Especially with his—.” He stopped abruptly.

“With his what?” Lopez asked, confused.

“His stomach. He’s got allergies; loads of allergies, _like who knew a dog could have allergies?_ But the vet prescribed him this special diet, we’ve been picking it up from Downtown, it takes weeks to get it delivered.”

“Hang on, Wes just messaged to say the warrant came through.” She tapped at her keyboard sharply, narrowing her eyes. “The last dialled number was 911.”

“I already checked in with Dispatch, they haven’t heard from her.” Grey added.

“They wouldn’t have, the call lasted 4 seconds.” Tim pointed out on the screen.

“So she was interrupted?” Lopez asked.

“Or she interrupted them.” Bradford replied. “Damn it.” He ran the postcode for the dog food supplier through his laptop. “No break-ins or anything suspicious in the area last night.”

“Don’t you think that’s kinda suspicious for central Arts District on a Tuesday night?”

“West and Nolan are on their way to Downtown; get them to search the nearby area. Anyone with a criminal background, I want to know about it. I don’t care if they have to run every car in the district.”

“You don’t think this is another of Rosalind Dyer’s people, trying to get even?” Lopez asked standing from her desk.

“Not her MO, not her area… but not out of question. Let’s hope for the best and plan for the worst and follow the few leads we’ve got so far.”

“Yes sir.”


	2. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team are beginning to close in as Lucy clings on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments, they inspire me to keep going always as I'd worry that I'm just rambling to myself! I'm still so happy about the renewal! Next chap will be very filled with Chenford so be prepared <3 If you want more Chenford/ Tucy ramblings I'm on tumblr at lamestcaptain :-D

“That’s a negative on that one. License is clean, car’s insured and the owner has no priors.” Jackson tapped a few more keys on the laptop, Nolan still looking around as he drove through the streets of the Arts District, searching for even the tiniest shred of a lead.

“What about the store the guys mentioned, fancy swinging on by there and taking a look at the place? Maybe retrace Lucy’s footsteps. Before major crimes gets involved in the next hour or so.” Nolan offered, Jackson shrugged half-heartedly.

“What have we got to lose?

“Time that we may not have.” Nolan added, solemnly.

The ride had been eerily quiet, they’d cruised through the dimly lit streets of LA with laser focus, there’d be a handful of infractions they could’ve stopped for along the way but right now there wasn’t the time for that. Whoever they were, today had to be their lucky day that LAPD was occupied with one of their own being in danger. 

“When did Lucy get a dog?” Nolan finally asked, trying to break up the silence.

“It’s Kujo.”

“Bradford’s dog?”

“I’m guessing there’s some kind of agreement between them, maybe she’s a dog person or he needed a sitter. They’ve spent enough time in a shop together to probably know each other inside out. People like dogs, they’re cute and yappy and cost a fortune.”

“Not a dog person?”

“Not a dog person.” Jackson agreed.

The car eased onto the paving just outside the pet food store. Nolan sat back for a moment, taking a deep breath in as he surveyed the area. Where would she go from her? Her car was less than a 5-minute walk from here, but LA could be a vast place and there was no time-frame, she could’ve gone anywhere. He sighed deeply.

“Hey look, I’ve got something on this car. Registered owner is Joe Castillo, spent five years inside for petty theft, drug distribution and kidnapping.” Jackson turned the screen to Nolan.

“Huh, looks like he didn’t get out too long since either.” Nolan got out of the shop, walking around the car. “Jackson look. It has 3 parking tickets on it. First was 1944 last night.”

“33356 reporting in on 07-Adam-07, I need a check running on a Joe Castillo.” Jackson radioed in.

“Alright, well, let’s check this place out. See what these guys have to say.”

Jackson lead the way, walking into the pet store, pulling the photo of Lucy from his pocket, ready to show. The attendant looked bored at best, some young kid with earphones in, a grease stain on his shirt and a well-practiced ignorance.

“Can I help?” He asked lazily. “You can’t do me for pot, you know. It’s legal.”

“I’m aware.” Nolan nodded, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Have you seen this person? She’s gone missing.” He held up a now slightly crumpled photograph of Lucy. He’d taken it himself during a picnic while they had been at the Academy together. Until now it’d been a fond memory.

“I see hundreds of people daily. People got pets and pets need feeding. She doesn’t look familiar. Maybe she’s bought food here once, I’m not sure. It could be someone else, everyone looks the same in LA.”

“Your observational skills are terrible.” Nolan remarked.

“When do you think you might’ve seen her?”

“I don’t know. Last month maybe.” He leaned against the countertop, crossing his eyes. “Look, I don’t know anything about this chick. I mean I’m real sorry she’s gone missing and all, but I can’t help you.”

“Don’t sweat it. There’s a car outside, three parking tickets on it. Have you seen anyone come or go to it? It’s pretty filthy, it’d be hard to miss.”

“The grey one? That’s Joe’s. He works here, a real dumbass. He could just park around the back where we get delivered, there’s plenty of space there. He’s worked here long enough.”

“Is it unusual for him to park out front?”

“He stops by every now and again out front, then off he goes again. Usually when he’s seeing the boss.”

“The boss?”

“Carl. He owns this place. Not worth much, just a bit on the side. He’s got big old daddy issues, I guess this place is him trying to prove he can be an adult or some shit. He’s the real philanthropist type; likes hiring fresh out of jail. You know, equal opportunities rehabilitation and that kind of stuff. That’s how he met Joe. But Joe’s a bit of a freak. Your average meth-head.”

“Do all his hires come from prison?”

“Do I look like I’ve been to prison?” The shopkeeper asked, incredulous. “Hell no. Live by the law, to the dot. Just lately the stores been expanding and who better to agree to being exploited than newly released criminals.” The guy shrugged.

“So you think you’re being exploited?”

“The boss seems to be doing well enough, just the store tends to get by from month to month. Mundane work, but I like it. Pays my bills.”

“What’s this guy’s name?” Jackson asked.

“Carl Franklin… Hey you’re not going to tell him I said nothing, are you? I mean, I’m all clean; I pay my bills, respect my elders, all that kind of stuff.”

“We’ll do our best. Have a good day.”

John and Jackson waved goodbye, leaving a business card with the guy as they eased themselves back into the shop.

“33356 reporting in on 07-Adam-07, we might have picked up a lead. I need another name running, a Carl Franklin. We’re going to head on over to Joe Castillo’s place to see what’s going on.”

“Received 07-Adam-07. On it.” Lopez called over the radio.

* * *

Lucy couldn’t decide if the ache in her head and the painful limp in her leg were managing to distract her from a possibly imminent death or not. Every now and again, her mind would be drawn back to her fate as Joe prodded the gun against her back, or tightly wound sharp fingers around her arm to direct her. She felt like her legs would fail her if not for that sharp grasp, but she was still on her feet and everything be damned she was going to fight this to the end. The evening had already drawn in and she was already at a disadvantage, this was an area she was unfamiliar with. Even if she could somehow stumble away, tied, it was dark and she had little to guide her to a place of safety.

She felt a nauseating quip hit her right in the pit of her belly, a fear washing over her. Or maybe it was just a combination of exhaustion and hunger as her legs caved from beneath her as Joe pushed her forwards, causing her to slump for a moment merely dangling in his grip. Her world felt shrouded in a cold darkness, like she was suspended in a comfortable nothingness before all too quickly it vanished and she was back on her knees.

He’d silently led her down a narrow flight of steel stairs from what she now realised had been an office, into the ground floor of some sort of warehouse. The air was thick with a salty stench, mixed with engine oil and mould and if her stomach hadn’t already been wrought enough Lucy would’ve wretched at the smell.

“Ah, shit.” Joe remarked; they’d stopped where they were. Lucy was grateful for a moment of reprieve to rest her aching body and try to re-orientate her to this new environment. It was metal, even if she could trust her body to carry herself away from him and faster than him, she’d still be vulnerable when he’d be able to hear each and every step she took. She was unarmed and running would be a massive gamble. She was practically a sitting duck with too many ‘maybes’ not in her favour and entirely unable to talk herself out of the circumstance.

“Please.” She offered, the words coming out a mangled mess through the gag.

“Fuck, keep it down won’t you?” He hissed. He knelt down in front of her, her eyes trailed to the gun still in his hand. “I’m sorry we’re in this mess. Shit. I never meant for things to go this far, you know?”

Lucy’s eyes flickered between his and the gun resting on his lap, she couldn’t decide if she was anticipating a struggle for it or maybe just waiting for him to lift it to kill her. Her mouth was painfully dry, her lips with cracking and the knotted cloth was making her lips bleed. Even if she could try to beg for help or scream or anything, she wasn’t entirely sure she had the energy for it. It was mid-July and the temperature must’ve been at least 100°, only exacerbated by the steel warehouse. It was practically a sauna. She felt a bead of sweat running down her forehead and her eyes were intermittently rolling.

Joe propped her against a metal box, sitting by her side. She was hoping and praying to any god that would listen for someone to walk in or for Tim to be on his way, maybe even for an opportunity to strike but damned near all her thoughts were jumbling into one.

“I was just trying to make a living for myself, things out of prison haven’t been great. No one wants to hire a con. Found out not long after I got in there that I was gonna be a dad for the first time, she’s a little girl. Her names Anthea, she’s got the sweetest smile. You’d love her. She’s turning 7 soon and the kids at school tease her, they say all her clothes are from Goodwill – which they are, but still. Kids are mean. She can count to, like, 20 now and I just wanted to give her the world. Give her a good life, didn’t want her turning out like me.”

Lucy watched him out of the corner of her eye, blinking occasionally, nodding. Whatever, he was talking about, she’d listen to and besides stories about kids were always far superior to die to than staring the sadistic threats of a slow death, perishing buried alive in a barrel. She could take this.

Carl was dead upstairs and perhaps it was just exhausted paranoia, but she swore she could see tiny droplets of blood seeping from the panel above that made the floor of the office.

The warehouse was just plain depressing, it was going to be one hell of a place to die; she’d decided. Would anyone ever find her here in the mess of storage containers? Tim probably would, eventually. He was persistent to a fault and she admired him for that. Between the pair of them, it would be a close tie as to who would ever back down last and she felt the tiniest chuckle in her belly at the though, she Joe turned his head to look back her.

She’d only gone out to buy dog food, but she’d landed herself in hot water. She was hot-headed, ambitious and sometimes would act before she should, it was her nature. How was she supposed to know the place selling her pet food was also laundering cash for a cartel?

* * *

_Damn, another $42 for a five-day supply of wet dog food? The dog was probably eating better than her. She began to quickly calculate her grocery expenditure in her mind as the guy at the checkout with the name-tag Joe rang up her items and damn it… The dog ate better than her._

_“Oh hey, do you have any more of those jerky treats? The mini ones for dog training. I just can’t get him on board with the whole rolling over thing. But he eats them right up.”_

_“Let me just go check out back. Give me a moment.” Joe nodded, fairly nonchalant. She just assumed he was used to doing this kind of stuff day in, day out._

_Her belly was grumbling already, she’d set her heart of tacos on the way home, with lots and lots of melted cheese. Today felt like such a great day for lots of melted cheese and she was practically waiting on baited breath for dinner. She’d hit the gym, then the shooting range, then she’d stopped by her parents place for a cup of coffee and some really engrossing criticisms about the mental health impact on prisoners and lack of care and treatment in prisons in America. Her parents weren’t wrong—but it wasn’t a problem she could singlehandedly fix right now, especially not as her mom was feeding her the narrative of the harm she had personally caused people in arresting them._

_She checked her watch. She just wanted to go home. To eat tacos with cheese and watch some really trashy reality-TV show._

_“Hey, you know what, it doesn’t matter.” She called out, a moment passed, then another with no response. She stepped towards the door beyond the counter, then another step. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry if you can’t find any.”_

_Damn, the guy really was super committed to finding these treats. She took another step into the room, with rows of boxes piled up on top of each other, a winding staircase off to her right. She quietly made her way along the corridor, trying to find the guy from the storefront, John, maybe his nametag had said?_

_The door was open ajar; she called out again for the guy._

_“I can come back some other time.”_

_She barely had time to respond as a bullet flew her way and she forced her hand to pull her own gun from her pants as she simultaneously took cover. She perched behind a tall row of boxes, taking her mobile from her pocket to dial 9-1-1 for backup._

_An eerie silence fell; she could hear her own breathing and the less-than-subtle trill of her dialling mobile. She quickly ended the phonecall and stuffed her phone into a deep pocket of her pants. She was backed up against a wall, a door a short distance from her was the staircase. She inched up it slowly, trying to move up to get a better view, get to safety, put in the call—anything. As she hit the corridor at the top of the stairs, she pressed her back to the wall seconds before she felt an arm wrap tightly around her neck, stopping her breath as she struggled, trying to kick and gain leverage, but instead her gun tumbled from her grasp, she tried to pull away to reach it but everything was fading faster and faster. Her head felt like it might explode as she opened her mouth wide to try to do anything to take in breath, her fingers prying at the arm to pull it away and then…_

_Nothingness._

* * *

“Detective Harper?” Sergeant Grey called from across the office as Nyla made her way into the precinct, her hands resting comfortably at her belt. She strode over towards the desk Lopez had herself planted to, she looked uncomfortably and her hand was at the nape of her neck that throbbed with the promise of an impending headache. Bradford had headed out to check out Carl’s place and Nolan was with Jackson on his way to Joe’s.

“Sir?” She asked, joining them at their makeshift action station.

“Your name’s attached to a Carl Franklin’s record, care to explain why?” Grey asked.

“Sir. Franklin is son to Frank Franklin, he’s a mobster type in NYC with investments in Florida, Virginia, Washington. He’s a people smuggler; keen on cold, hard, quick cash at a decent expense. I had a colleague undercover around Carl, trying to establish a way into Frank, but the trail went pretty cold when the cop wound up dead in an apparent suicide.”

“And you don’t believe it was a suicide?”

“Not for a moment, Sir. Bullet went through the right side of his head, but he’s left-handed. Officer Jennings was one of the finest I’ve ever met. He was my T.O back in the day.” She placed her hands behind her back. “He was a real son of a bitch, but he was on the side of the good guys.”

“So killing cops is a thing these guys are familiar with. There’s been no demands, no ransom or bartering, so if this thing isn’t solved before 06:00 this becomes a murder investigation, do you understand?”

Angela’s blood ran cold. “But what about his son?”

“Only thing we’ve got on him are petty crimes; carjacking, mail fraud and the likes.”

“So he’s… escalating maybe? Trying to prove himself to his dad? But how does the pet store fit in to all this? Is this Joe character a hostage too? Maybe insurance for something?”

Grey halted abruptly as his mobile was ringing. “Nolan? I hope you’re going to tell me you’ve found something.” 

“I’ve found nothing.” Nolan confessed.

“Then what took you so damn long?”

“No, Sir, I mean I’ve found nothing. This place is empty. Imagine a car showroom, but it’s filthy. There’s nothing here.” Nolan explained.

“Where do you go when you’re on the run?” Nyla asked. Lopez pulled up the phonecall between Lucy and Tim, listening again carefully.

“No, no, no. Hang on, there's something we're missing. Where do you go when you’re a kid and you’ve messed up?” Lopez asked.

“To your parents.” John replied.

“Listen to the audio again. That’s not traffic, that’s the sound of a working dock. It’s seagulls too in the background.” Angela added.

“It’s a trafficker’s dream there by the marina, an airport a few miles away and plenty of space to get away. That’ll be where Frank conducts his business.” Nyla replied.

“This is Sergeant Grey, I want Marine cops, coast guard, every available unit and their dog to Marina Del Ray.” Grey radioed.


	3. Drawing To a Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy and Tim reminisce. Lucy tries to talk her way out. Chaos brings clarity for Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done! Just one more chapter after this, please leave a comment or maybe some kudos if you've enjoyed! I've felt out of my comfort zone writing this as I'm not really all that familiar with police procedurals but it's been a good challenge and Chenford is worth the struggle! You can find me on tumblr as always at lamestcaptain. Much love!

Lucy’s mind had drifted off somewhere again. She thought about that first kiss with John back in the Academy and the thrill of the secret at first, before it descended into a chaotic nightmare. Perhaps she should’ve never paid any notice to Talia’s words after all, but for what it was worth she had healed and grown if that was any second prize. She thought about the first time she pranked Jackson, he was so serious in the Academy. He’d come to the place with a laser focus and a hefty chip on his shoulder, but in time enough he’d softened and become one of the best cops on the LA beat. In a firefight if she only had him by her side, that’d be more than enough. He was one hell of a roommate, even if he never put the cutlery back in the right place. Then there was Tim. She smiled now, in her dazed state. He was one hell of a TO and a top-notch cop. The best in the business and he was going to be one hell of a sergeant when he gets the chance. She wonders if he knows that she notices that little smile before he fervently denies being her friend.

She’d been through the ringer once before, she wore the scars still. They weren’t any kind of armour or source of strength; they were just there and she was at peace with that now. If anyone was going to find her in the middle of nowhere, she had a pretty decent team behind her.

Lucy cast her mind back to Thursday night movies, week after week. Tim had a pretty niche taste in movies and he would always insist that he should choose what they watch, on the background of his experience and expertise. She was happy enough with that, she could sit and listen to him explain the intricacies of a scene or why something was written or lit or directed particularly well. She loved that vulnerable side of him, when she was able to just see _him_ , when he was just Bradford in his sweatpants on his couch or as they raced each other through laps of the park or when they would challenge each other to push-ups. Behind all that tough exterior was a scarred soul with a rugged kindness. He would wrap her in a blanket if she fell asleep and if she fell asleep on his shoulder he’d do his best to not wake her until he had too.

He’d always excuse it as just doing his job, but it stopped being his job a long time ago. Just how Caleb hadn’t been his fault. Just like none of this was his fault. However this was going down, and she was going to go down kicking and screaming if it came to that, she had peace with the fact that Tim Bradford had a pretty special place in her world.

She twisted her hand slightly against the cuffs; she could feel the engraving on them. They felt pretty much like LAPD standard issue. She knew them like the back of her hand; she’d used them enough. They’d been fastened pretty tightly even as she tried to quietly struggle against them they had no give in them. She’d have to maybe pick the lock, or just wait it out. Her ankles and legs were free now, if she could maybe just focus her energy just enough and at the right time, even at the disorientating disadvantage, she still stood a chance. God she was tired, but if she was going to have any fight left in her, now was going to be as good of a chance as any to use it up. No holds barred. She was good; he’d trained her. She’d jumped off a roof before. _She’d survived worse_. She decided.

Joe shifted at the side of her, he still had the gun pressed in his hands. He was rocking back and forth and muttering something to himself, it took her a moment to focus in on his words, doing a detour to cast another glance at the office space where she’d been held before trying to convince herself that maybe it was some water leak through rotted steel.

“Shit, shit. What am I gonna do? Carl’s the brains man. The cops will swarm this place in no time. I gotta go. I gotta go—but where do I go? And what do I do with her? I can’t leave her. Then I’ve got to kill her, but if I kill her—Shit, I’ve really got to get moving.” He cursed.

Lucy shifted uncomfortably in her position, flattening her feet to the ground as he took her by the arm again, yanking her up to her feet. She hissed in pain at the bite of the handcuffs. God, everything hurt. Even her jaw now throbbed, where the cloth was forcing her teeth apart, despite her muffled attempts at words or stretching around it. She felt her lips chafe painfully and peel at the dryness. _When_ she got out of here, she was never going to pass up a cup of water ever again.

“Just let me go.” She tried to say, her words loud and her frustration sounding off as he hoisted her up. As she shifted, she felt the ache of a bruised rib.

“I can’t, I can’t. I just can’t.” He replied, she tried to speak again, but he raised his hand to her in retaliation, before hesitating and pulling the gag from her mouth. “Scream and I’ll kill you right here.”

* * *

“There are 3 blocks of this shipping yard, split into 4 units each. That’s hefty ground to cover and that’s if we’re in the right place to begin with.” Grey began. “We go in quickly, quietly and clear each area as soon as possible. Marine are on standby on the water for any escapes, this place is surrounded but we don’t know much about these people and we don’t know how they’ll react. We are not dealing with real professionals, so we want to avoid panic. As far as we know there’s one. You move in groups; you have each other’s backs. I’ve been thinking about how to tell Officer Chen’s mother all day that her daughter died, I don’t want to be having to plan anymore conversations of the sort. Am I clear?”

There was a resounding tone of “sir” with combined nods from those stood by him.

Tim was grinding his jaw, even if he hadn’t particularly noticed that at the time. Angela tapped his arm with her elbow softly, nudging him. His eyes widened softly at the intrusion, as she pulled him from the depth of his thoughts.

“You alright? Don’t think I’ve seen you this nervous before a bust since we nearly didn’t get you home in time for the start of Superbowl.” She teased softly, a gentle sincerity in her tone. She smiled at him. “She’s a smart kid, a fine cop and trained by the second best in the business. It’s all in her favour. We’re gonna get in there and she’s probably got these guys all trussed up ready but just hasn’t got signal to call for collection.”

“Wait— Who’s the best?”

“Me, obviously.”

He forced a slight scoff and she squeezed his arm in response. At the pit of his belly he felt a curdling sense of dread and regret. He wished he’d told her about how he enjoyed her company, even when he would deny it until his last breath. To properly thank her for all the times she’d saved his ass and how even when she barely knew him, she’d stopped him from derailing and losing everything to Isabelle’s addiction without any judgement. All the times he’d swatted her outstretched hand away, he now regretted. Just in case it could’ve taken her path down any other route than where they stood now. He thought about all those stolen glances; when she wasn’t looking he would watch her with a heart filled with admiration and pride and confusion. She was his trainee and his ward but since Isabelle all the wires were getting crossed and confusing.

She didn’t need protecting; but he wanted to be around her. She had a kind of magnetism in her smile and her laugh that drew him in closer every time he would start to stray or some old scar started to ache. He could watch her tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear a thousand times a day, but more than that he wanted to reach towards her face and tuck it away for her. She didn’t _need_ him, shit, she was probably a hundred times better off without him hanging around, but she always stayed and like the earth and the moon they revolved around each other.

He’d never told her how when she touched his arm, it was like electricity and it reignited a fire in him he thought had long since fizzled out. He could listen to her dry wit and sarcasm and humour for an eternity and another eternity after that. He loved the most intimate parts of her; that he knew her favourite brand of paperclips—that he even knew she had a favourite brand of paperclips. He remembered the warmth of her in his arms when she’d been saved from death before and he selfishly just wanted to hold her. He wanted to run his hand through her hair and smell her apple shampoo. He longed for all the moments that he may never get now that she’d been caught up in the crossfire by some _bastard_ and by god he would make sure he never saw the outside of a prison cell.

And now, come hell or high water at least he had Angela by his side.

“Jesus, who would’ve thought that a pet food store would be a laundering front for people trafficking?” She asked, fiddling to check her ammo again one last time.

“Probably dozens more of them across LA. This is just scratching the surface. Sounds like the kid is just some low level in a big scheme. Which makes it all the more dangerous, if the higher ups catch wind and know the boss-man’s kid is in danger and the LAPD is on to them— and Luce’s is caught in the middle.” He let out a haggard breath, like air was trapped in his lungs.

“Luce? I’ve never heard you call her that before.” She remarked, eyebrow raised. “She’s really got under your skin, huh?” 

“Yeah.” He breathed. “She’s incessant, irritatingly persistent, stupidly brave and takes no crap.”

“Even when you’re the one giving the crap?”

He shot her a glance. “Especially then. She’s got a good heart.” He inhaled sharply, tucking his lip between teeth. “I nearly lost her once before. I should’ve held on tighter.”

“Do you really think she would’ve let you?”

He scoffed. “You’re right. Still doesn’t make this any easier.”

“She’s going to be okay Tim.”

“I’ll head in first, cover me.” He remarked, trying to draw away from the conversation. His footsteps felt heavier that usual, especially so as he began taking steps from the shop, weighed down by the hefty Kevlar protective gear.

“Covering.” She replied.

His mind cast back to Lucy dragging him by his arm, a bullet embedded in his flesh and searing like a combination of lightening and fire all at once, while the pair of them were under fire. He’d cast his eyes up to her face briefly back then as he denied every instinct and moved his body even when his body begged him to stop, seeing that stubborn combination of fear and fortitude splayed across her face.

“Clear. I’m going ahead.”

* * *

“Move, goddammit.” Joe persisted, pressing the gun into her back. They made their way through a maze of storage containers, moving forwards to the outer edge of the dock. It wasn’t until now she’d really taken the time to realise where she was and orientate herself. This wasn’t her normal patch, she was far from familiarity but adrenaline could be her saving grace in this situation.

She tried to weakly protest, to mumble some sort of complaint through the cloth he’d secured around her mouth again. But even if there wasn’t a gun to her back she couldn’t shout for help. She just had to bide her time and wait for the right opportunity. The storage container maze felt like it went on for an eternity and she was beginning to get the notion they were going around in some sort of circle. He was stalling. He didn’t have any kind of plan and he was backing himself further and further into a corner. 

Despite the mid-summer day, the nights seemed brisk in comparison, or maybe that was just the fatigue as she felt gooseflesh rising on her skin. She would do anything to wrap her arms around herself, instead of her wrists being tightly fixed behind her back.

“Please.” She mumbled, trying to grind to a halt, feeling the barrel of the gun press tighter against her back and perhaps he was at the end of his tether, but he seemed to allow it and stopped too, pressing his body against the metal of the container. He cast a glance up at the sky, looking around. His breath ragged and panicked.

She splayed her fingers against the cuffs, relaxing momentarily against the chilling cold of the metal. It felt just like the barrel in the dessert, the aching suffocation of just not having quite enough oxygen to breathe. Her vision was blurry with tiredness and just at the edge of her line of sight; she could’ve sworn she’d seen Caleb’s eyes on them at a distance.

Her world was closing in and she might as well have been in the barrel again. Just slowly dying; feeling every last breath tenuously drag out and wondering how many before the next would be her last. She tried to suck in a thick breath of air, but her mouth was dry and it only made her cough.

Joe grasped her by the arms, leaving bruises in their wake as her knees jolted, hissing a command for her to be quiet. Would he force her into a shipping container? Toss her into the water? Would he shoot her if she ran now? Her eyes darted into the distance, everywhere she looked were more containers.

Tim knew she was in danger. The LAPD would know something was wrong when she hadn’t turned up for work. She knew how these things worked. She took a moment to steady herself, listening to the gentle sloshing sound of the water of the marina against the steel structures, how it seemed to cascade slowly back and forth. Even the sound of Joe’s breathing was drowning away now in her mind. 

“Did you hear that?” Angela asked, an almost silent whisper, she pointed ahead in the direction of the coughing noise.

Tim’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. There was someone up ahead of them. He could’ve sworn the sound of his heartbeat ringing in his ears and the blood rushing through his veins would’ve given them away. The grasp of his gun tightened just a little more than it already had been, his knuckles whitening.

Angela peered around the container, trying to find a line of sight. It was a damned nearly impossible to plan a route, every turn blocked by more containers and a dozen angles for bullets to ricochet from in a firefight. She signalled forward.

“This is badge 29847, I’ve got something ahead in block 3 towards the dock edge, back up requested.” She radioed quietly, raising her gun again.

“Covering.” He whispered as Lopez pressed on.

* * *

Joe’s head turned quickly as Tim took a step, the metal of the dock creaking softly; he barely muttered a curse under his breath. His grasp found Lucy’s forearm, pressing her to move on again, dragging her alongside him with the gun pointing vaguely in her direction.

“Shit.” He remarked, they’d made their way to the edge of the marina and all that was ahead now was the dark seawater barely lit by the moonlight. “Ah, fuck.”

“Go, go.” Tim called, following the voice towards the edge of the marina. He was picking up speed as he ran, crouching to check each path was clear as he moved from container to container.

“I didn’t mean for it to get this far.” Joe explained apologetically as he forced Lucy to her knees, facing out to sea, she cried out in pain as she dropped. He pressed the gun to the back of her head, her sobs almost silent as she focused on a particular reflection of the steelwork on the water to console her.

“LAPD, drop the weapon you’re surrounded.” Angela called out loudly, herself and Tim parallel, aiming at Joe.

“There’s nowhere to go. Put your hands up. Don’t give me a reason to shoot, because I’ll take any I cat get.” Tim seethed, his words a snarl and his lip curled. Lucy inhaled sharply with a loud sob, as she recognised the voices even while facing away. Her body sagged, feeling drained of energy.

Joe dropped the weapon to the ground with a loud clattering noise, Lucy shrieking as it fell to her side, instinctively moving away. Angela moved in, kicking away his gun, intercepting the path between Joe and Tim quickly before Tim had the opportunity to grab the man. Instead Tim sunk to his knees in front of Lucy as Angela let out the breath she’d been holding. 

“Shh, sh. Chen. Luce. It’s me.” Tim soothed as she awkwardly shifted to face him, her frame heaving with sobs, his hands pressed reassuringly against her face as he felt her sag with a heaving relief. He pulled the cloth from her mouth, but she still barely managed to stammer a whimper.

“Badge 29847, I’ve got one in custody. One casualty. Hostage retrieved. No sign of the other guy.” Angela called over the radio.

“He’s dead.” Lucy managed. Tim was in front of her, holding her carefully in a gentle embrace, she pressed her head against his shoulder. One arm easily enveloped her, fingers rubbing soothing circles to reassure her, he pressed his head against the crook of neck.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now, we’ve got you.” He explained, words so quiet they were more like a whisper against her ear as she leaned her weight into him. “You’re safe. Can I look?” He asked, moving his free hand to her beaten wrists to assess the handcuffs. He muttered a quiet apology under his breath as he reached into his back pocket, fumbling for the key for his cuffs, unlocking them and releasing her hands. She chewed on her lip, stifling the whimper as the blood returned to her hands, another wave of pain crashing over her.

“I’m so sorry.” He told her, as she slowly eased her shoulders to place her arms around him, pressing her face against his shoulder to hide the tears, he held her there, feeling the way her body sagged either out of relief or exhaustion or both. “Are you shot?” He asked, running a hand over her carefully, trying to look for any obvious catastrophic injury but she shook her head.

“No, I’m fine. I’m not hurt.”

“Damn, if you’re fine then I don’t want to see the other guy.” He offered, she let out the tiniest shallow laugh. Lucy moved in again to wrap her arms around his neck, as Lopez looked away to give them a moment of privacy as she read Joe his rights. Without hesitation Tim took her back into his arms, just holding her and whispering soothing words of reassurance.

“I thought I was going to lose you.” He explained, barely managing for his words to be any more than a whisper. “And I wondered who else was gonna tell me when I’m being an ass, because no one can do it as good as you do.” She let out a small laugh in the middle of a sob, his arms tightening slightly to squeeze her. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” He explained.

“I think you’d manage.” She offered sincerely. Her fingers grasped at his collar to gain leverage and to hold on tighter, her fingertips brushing against the flesh of his neck, feeling the gentle scraping of the stubble of his jaw against her cheek. He gave her a gentle squeeze again as she sighed softly, her posture softening slightly in his grip. "Thank you for finding me." 

“I'll always find you. You make me a better person.” He told her.

“Just doing my job.” She whispered back.


End file.
